


The Changing Seasons

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:43:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dragonborn, with help from his husband, considers what he has to do in order to follow Jarl Balgruuf's request - resolve the civil war in Skyrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Changing Seasons

As the luna moths and torchbugs hovered around the flowers surrounding Lakeview Manor, its Breton owner and builder stood in the upstairs observatory. Autem, the Thane of various holds, which included Falkreath, was also the Dragonborn, and much rested on his shoulders. Right now, his thoughts were consumed by the civil war. 

He’d come to Skyrim and almost immediately been pulled into it, having fallen into a battle between Ulfric Stormcloak’s forces and those led by General Tulius of the Imperial Army. He’d been rounded up with a group of the Stormcloaks and the order had been given to have him executed along with them. It had only been the timely intervention of Alduin appearing at that very moment and destroying Helgen that had spared Autem.

In the time since the escape from the Imperial forces, the civil war had raged across Skyrim. It seemed that, so long as Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun kept his neutrality, keeping his hold out of the war, almost as a cork in a bottle, the war would be a stalemate. The Imperial forces held Solitude, Morthal, Markarth, and Falkreath, and the Stormcloaks had Windhelm, Winterhold, Dawnstar, and Riften. Unless something came along and upset the delicate balance between the holds, the war could continue on indefinitely. 

And Jarl Balgruuf had made that upset.

To stop Alduin, Autem needed to trap a dragon. To trap a dragon, he needed to use the ancient trap at Dragonreach, the fortress that the Jarl of Whiterun called home. To allow Autem to use Dragonreach, Balgruuf wanted to ensure that he could protect the people of Whiterun. And to protect the people of Whiterun, Balgruuf wanted the civil war resolved.

After being told that by the Jarl, Autem had returned to his home, trying to determine what he should do. This was a civil war for a land he’d adopted as his own, but really didn’t feel he had any claim to saying he should make any decisions between the two. He thought there might be a chance to speak with the Greybeards of High Hrothgar, have them act as mediators, but he was doubtful of how a treaty made there could actually work out. Tensions were too high, and Autem doubted that any kind of peace treaty would be no more than a piece of paper to most of the people involved, that playing peacemaker would only distract him from the knives that both sides were going to be looking to slide into the other party’s back. 

The hatch to the house proper popped open. “There you are, love,” Vilkas said. His husband pulled himself fully into the observation tower. The Nord Companion pulled Autem into a loving embrace. “I couldn’t find you tinkering in the basement. I thought you might have run off to save the world again.”

Taking comfort in his husband’s embrace, Autem allowed himself to smile. “Not without you, my love,” he said, wrapping one of his hands around Vilkas’s. 

“You’re troubled,” Vilkas said, feeling the tension in his husband’s body. 

“Is it any wonder?” Autem remarked wryly. “You were with me when the Jarl gave his terms.”

“To capture a dragon... I can scarcely imagine the songs that will be sung of you one day.” 

The confidence of his husband was a relief. Autem would never deny that. “I’m glad you’re certain of my coming victory. I’m not quite as sure of it.” He sighed, and, before Vilkas could speak again, offer more words of inspiration and such, continued. “It’s not as easy as the songs would have you believe, love. Particularly right now, given the terms the Jarl gave me.”

At that, Vilkas nodded solemnly. “Aye. Resolving the civil war... It is a tall order.”

“And I doubt any peace treaty would last. You’ve heard talk between Imperials and Stormcloaks. Even just in Whiterun, the Battle-Born and Gray-Mane feud...”

Vilkas scoffed. “Vignar and Olfrid would be at each other’s throats with or without the civil war. They just like the excuse.” But he understood what Autem was referring to. Skyrim was divided, and no treaty or agreement would resolve anything. A treaty would just create an illusion – neither Ulfric or Tulius would back down from this conflict, they would be making plans and preparing for the moment that the other broke the treaty. The question wouldn’t be if one of them blinked first but which of them would. Because they would both be waiting for the other, and with all that aggression, one of them would take that step, and Skyrim would be right back where they’d started. This war needed to be resolved, not with words, but with action.

“Regardless... The best thing for Skyrim would be a peaceful resolution, but neither side has leadership who wants it.”

“That is understandable. The war is about how we are allowed to worship,” Vilkas said. Though he wasn’t devout enough to the Divines to be torn up over the debate of Talos’s divinity, he had felt the call for Sovngarde, rather that joining Hircine’s hunt. He didn’t know how that would result in terms of the Divines, but the simple truth was, he didn’t particularly care for someone, even a distant Empire, telling him how to worship.

Autem nodded solemnly. “I know. But I get the feeling that there are many, on both sides, who look at this whole war as just a pretense for fighting. Like you said, the Gray-Manes and Battle-Borns would be at it regardless. I think if Ulfric hadn’t made an issue of it, the majority of the Imperials would have turned a blind eye to Talos worship. The Thalmor, less so, but how often do they deign to slum it with the common folk?”

That got a chuckle from Vilkas. Even Solitude, the heart of Imperial control in Skyrim, played host to few of the Thalmor in person. They kept to their embassy a ways outside of the hold. They knew it was probably the safest place for them to be – even in the Imperial-aligned holds, brutally murdering a pack of Thalmor Justicars didn’t rate more than a standard assault bounty. 

“What, then, is the choice you’re going to make, if I may ask?” Vilkas asked.

That only made Autem shake his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed and stepped out of Vilkas’s embrace. “For all that they call me ‘Dragonborn,’ for all that I’ve become Thane in most of the Holds, for all that I have taken on Skyrim as my home... I don’t feel like deciding this is my place. This war... It isn’t one I have been involved in. I’ve made it a point to stay out of it.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate you doing what you can to protect yourself,” Vilkas said, taking a step back as Autem started pacing in the small area available to them. “But why do you stay out of it? You have been involved in it since the day you arrived in Skyrim, whether or not you chose a side.” Alduin had returned to Skyrim at what would have been the execution of Autem and Ulfric Stormcloak. Autem’s desires were secondary in many ways to the pull of fate.

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. Autem had been tangled up in the civil war by virtue of his arrival in Skyrim, but it was still to him not a war that demanded his involvement. He’d been able to remain outside of it. Maybe that had been a mistake. But the fact had been, he hadn’t felt it was his place to join either side at first. And by the time he’d started questioning that decision, he’d also seen too much to make either of them very appealing.

“I suppose I stay out of it because... the more they look at me at see the answer to their problems, the more I feel like I’m losing myself.” He glanced to the book on table beside them that he’d been reading lately. “The Oblivion Crisis, and various other threats like it over the history of the world... How many of those make someone into something they never were, just so that it makes a better legend? A better story to tell others? Did the Hero of Kvatch have a lover? Who were the Nervarine’s parents? You’ve seen how Tiber Septim, in being made Talos, has become more a symbol than a man.” He looked to Vilkas, giving his husband a sad look. “I won’t matter to history. You won’t matter to history.”

“I can live with that, love. I’m comfortable not being immortalized. Outside of drinking songs around the table at Jorrvaskr, anyway.” Vilkas had never sought it, though he knew many of the Companions had believed Kodlak had thought he’d one day join the ranks of the Harbingers. He was content, though, to allow his husband that honor. 

But Autem shook his head. “You know what I mean. The story is going to become more important than myself, and... I’m not at a point where I can look at that and see it as something that acts as a legacy I want. I suppose it’s selfish, to be more concerned about how I’m remembered, but... People are already telling tales of ‘the Dragonborn.’ That’s not a title I earned, and... I’m not sure they really think of it as ‘me.’ I don’t matter to history. The Dragonborn does.”

“You can’t be more concerned with ‘history’ than the reality, love. People will talk and tell stories. That’s just the way of things. What is the story you want to tell yourself?”

“That’s no help. The story is about do I side with those who would tear down a belief because it doesn’t align with theirs or those who would tear down others because they don’t look ‘proper.’ Species or culture. I feel like picking a side is falling on my sword either way. Neither of them are in a position, I feel, that they deserve such loyalty.”

“Then why not slay both their leaders, take command of them, as it seems you have a tendency to do?” Vilkas asked with a chuckle. Autem was the leader of the Companions, had taken charge of the Thieves Guild in Riften, become the champion of a handful of Daedric Lords (whether he liked it or not), and killed a vampire lord. Autem’s list of accomplishments probably did place him in a position where he could probably kill Ulfric or Tulius – or both - and take their position.

Of course, that would be another title added to his name. It was getting to be too much of a mouthful as it was. Autem made a face at the very thought. “I’d rather not. I can think of better things to do with my time than become an actual leader of men.” He shook his head again. He’d hoped discussing this would be enough to clear his mind and lead him to a solution, something solid that he could use to determine his path. Instead, he felt more conflicted than before. 

“At least I didn’t suggest you become a Jarl. Or perhaps the new High King,” Vilkas said, laughing at the reaction of horror it got from his husband. He was pleased he’d gotten a little bit of humor out of the situation.

For his efforts, Autem looked to him. “I think that’s a title I’d gladly pass on to my husband.” Vilkas could admit that he’d left himself wide open for that, but he still turned to Autem with a horrified look. Autem struggled to hold a straight face, a small fit of laughter attempting to get out. Despite the seriousness of their conversation, a little bit of tormenting of his husband was enough to get a laugh out of him. 

The laughter didn’t last long, though. It wasn’t long before somberness fell back upon them. “I have to make a choice. If I don’t, Skyrim could be torn apart before Aludin even tries to end the world.” He shook his head. “Dammit, I never wanted this!” The anger and frustration suddenly burst out of him, unexpectedly. He lashed out, a fist striking the pole that held the awning over their heads up. “I have been made into this grand figure, ‘the Dragonborn,’ and now a uniter of a fractured nation. I didn’t want this. I was simply... trying to find a new life. And then the same Divines I never had a use for before now have decided to interfere in my life and throw me into this position that makes me an instrument of their will. How is any of this something that should be my responsibility?!” 

For a long stretch of moments, Vilkas was silent, waiting to see if there was more to Autem’s outburst. When he felt convinced that Autem was no longer lashing out, he rose and pulled him close. “I know you did not ask for this, love. That if given the choice, you’d have settled for a quiet life separate from all of this nonsense. If I could change that fate for you, I would.” He held his tongue, knowing that for all the protestations either of them could offer, their desires meant nothing on this matter. Whether or not they liked it, Autem was the Dragonborn. Only he could stop Alduin. 

“The Greybeards did at one point suggest that this is simply the time that the world is meant to end,” Autem said softly. “I could just... let Alduin destroy the world.” He spoke of the idea in a half-hearted manner, but Vilkas still stared at him in shock that he would even suggest such a thing.

“That doesn’t sound like the man I married. The man who fought a spirit wolf to send the soul of a dead man to Sovengarde.”

And Autem quickly nodded. “I know. I know. It was more... a passing thought. Because... I’m scared, love. I worry about fighting Alduin, about how much choice I have. If he is meant to end the world, he’ll be back one day anyway. I would only be delaying the inevitable.”

“But why allow the world to end?” Vilkas countered. He could tell that Autem’s fears were because of the pressure placed upon him. In the time they’d known each other, he’d become adept at picking up on his lover’s emotions, and knew that Autem wanted to fight back against this ‘inevitability.’ He just was struggling with the weight of it. The idea of letting the world end... Only the Thalmor were that depraved. 

Autem nodded. “I know. I suppose I can’t just let the world end. Some days, though... This weight, like making this choice between the Stormcloaks and the Imperials... It gets to be too much, and I start to consider it.”

Taking his husband’s face in his hands, Vilkas gave him a gentle kiss. “Know that whatever you choose, I will stand by your side.”

“It doesn’t help me choose, but... I take great pleasure at hearing that.” Autem smirked slightly. “Now, any suggestions about the choice I have to make?”

There was a moment of consideration on Vilkas’s face as he thought about it. “If you must choose, and I suppose you must, then the decision is going to have to be one that you can live with. If you must live with a choice, who do you support more? Who do you think will be the better choice?”

Autem considered, leaning on the railing and looking out to the landscape of Skyrim. “If I’m honest with myself... The Thalmor are the greater threat. The Thalmor will absolutely destroy this world if they’re not stopped in some way at some point. And that will make all of my efforts against Alduin pointless.” He paused. “But the Stormcloaks are going to fracture the same empire that Tiber Septim fought to organize. The empire... That may be the one group we can count on to resist the Thalmor.”

“Even with the White-Gold Concordat?”

“Even with. The Concordat isn’t going to last. At best, it’s biding time for both sides to make another attempt to dislodge the other. And if the Empire’s going to have any chance to topple the Thalmor, they NEED Skyrim unified, under a single banner.”

“Then it sounds like you’ve made a choice.”

Autem hadn’t realized it until Vilkas stated that, but he had. He’d come to a conclusion, he just hadn’t connected the pieces together to what they all meant. “I suppose I have. I’m not going to ask anyone to change what they believe in their hearts. But if I were Tiber Septim, if as a mortal man, I’d forged an empire, I would sooner those who come after me fight to hold that together, hold my mortal legacy intact, than I would want them to fight to deify me.” He looked to Vilkas, nodding more to himself than to Vilkas. “Mortal legacy it is. I won’t tell people to change what is in their hearts, and the Empire will not do anything to change that for me. But I would stand for the defense of the tangible legacy of Tiber Septim before I fight for the name of Talos.”

“It is as good a reason as any, love.” As Vilkas had said from the start, he wasn’t concerned about the worship of Talos, or any other Divine. The Thalmor could outlaw it, but, as any resident of Whiterun could tell you, that didn’t keep the people of Skyrim from worshiping him. Heimskr would probably only stop preaching the word of Talos if someone ran him through with a sword. And, with their luck, he’d probably end up a ghost of some sort and start wandering the roads of Whiterun all night, repeating his sermon. There were many within Skyrim who held similar, though less vocal, devotions to Talos. Even if the Thalmor tore his shrines down anywhere they were found, Vilkas doubted that they could stamp out belief in him, not just in Skyrim.

It seemed that Autem was coming to that same conclusion. “Talos can endure, whether or not Skyrim openly worships him or if they must hide that belief. If Skyrim leaves the Empire, both are easier targets for the Thalmor.” Autem gave one last determined nod. “So that tells me who I will support. Next will come the fighting proper.”

Vilkas smiled at him. “Ah, that is nothing. For you are the Dragonborn!”

His good humor starting to return now that he had reached a decision, Autem rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me shove you over the railing.” He sighed and looked over to the stable in front of the house. “I suppose I should make my way to Solitude, sign up with the Legion.” He made to head for the hatch back into the house proper.

Vilkas grabbed his arm. “You can leave in the morning, love. Tonight... Tonight should be ours. Not theirs.”

His husband smiled. “You make a good point.” He leaned in for a kiss, one that Vilkas eagerly returned.


End file.
